


i see you when i close my eyes

by natodiangelo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dreams, Eventual Relationships, M/M, Pining, Pre-Game(s), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natodiangelo/pseuds/natodiangelo
Summary: Prompto’s his friend – hisbestfriend, his great bud, his completely straight guy pal who will never like him back.





	i see you when i close my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this a while ago and i might write more?? probably but idk when ha h
> 
> also completely irrelevant but ive been listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpDEFzBTXis) \+ other ffvii osts by this guy for the last week while writing and Damn does it create a mood

 

The air between them is electric, hot and heavy with unsettled tension. They’re so close – _so_ close, closer than Noctis thinks he’s ever been to someone before. Their noses touch, and Noctis can feel Prompto’s breath on his lips, warm but not nearly substantial enough. If he could tear his gaze away from Prompto’s eyes, he’s sure he could count each and every one of the freckles on his face.

Maybe Noctis moves – or maybe it was Prompto, or maybe the universe shifted without them knowing but one moment they’re nose to nose and the next Prompto’s eyes are closed and their lips are pressed together and Noctis swears his heart stops beating all together.

The next moment, everything goes into overdrive. His heart is racing, blood a low roar in his ears. Every spot where he’s pressed against Prompto burns like a brand, stark against his cold, clammy hands. He feels like his stomach has been ripped out of him, but in an almost pleasurable sort of way. Light, like he could float away.

The brush of Prompto’s lips on his own is dizzying, thin and soft and sweet. He reaches his hands up finally, goes to wind them up in Prompto’s hair, pull him closer and closer and fill every gap between them, but suddenly Prompto dissolves into the air and he’s alone.

Noctis wakes up with a gasp, head reeling and heart racing and blood collecting in places he really wishes it wouldn’t. He blinks, once, twice, reaches his hand up and wipes the sleep from his eyes.

A dream.

He takes a deep, shuttering breath. Just a dream.

He can’t help the disappointment that settles over him.

This is something that’s been happening distressingly often lately, leaving him wanting so much more than he’ll ever get. Prompto’s his friend – his _best_ friend, his great bud, his completely straight guy pal who will never like him back.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

He figures that disappointing himself is better than hoping and wishing and then being let down, even though the thought makes his chest tighten painfully.

His alarm blares out, making him jump and effectively scattering his thoughts. He gets up with a groan.

 

At the beginning of the year, when his and Prompto’s friendship was still budding and every time he saw his friend was like a special treat, being in the same class was a dream come true.

Now, after a few months of shoving his quickly growing feelings for his friend into a bottle at the bottom of his heart, seeing him this much just adds to the pain in his chest.

It’s not even like he dislikes being around Prompto – it’s the opposite. Noctis can’t get _enough_ of him. He wants to be around him all the time – constantly offers to hang out or spend the night or to do _something_ together so he doesn’t have to be alone with his thoughts.

But during class he’s just that – _alone with his thoughts._ He has a full view of the nape of Prompto’s neck and the curve of his back, uninterrupted until the teacher pauses or class is over and Prompto turns to give him a smile. There’s nothing to distract him from the way the sun glints off of his friend’s gold hair, or how he even has freckles on his neck, or how nice the skin there tasted in his dream last night-

He’s faked being asleep more times than he can count to avoid Prompto seeing the blush on his face.

It’s – It’s _embarrassing_ , he thinks, being so completely and thoroughly in love with his best friend. It’s embarrassing how every time Prompto goes home Noctis wants to beg him to stay, embarrassing how he gets distracted watching the way his lips move as he talks and doesn’t take in anything Prompto says, embarrassing how Ignis will catch him staring and give him a _look_ , or how Gladio will smirk and roll his eyes and tease him as soon as Prompto’s gone-

(It’s embarrassing that when their teacher tells them to write a poem, Noctis spends the entire night trying to accurately describe Prompto’s eyes, and it’s embarrassing how he scrambles to get rid of the discarded papers before Ignis can see them the next morning.)

It’s also _unfair._ Unfair that he catches the tail ends of his dad’s conversations concerning arranged marriages. Unfair that Prompto laments every crush on every girl in their class to Noctis. Unfair that Noctis is awake all night with Prompto’s name on his lips only to have to pretend the next morning that nothing is wrong.

Unfair that the only person Noctis would feel comfortable talking to about this is the source of the problem in the first place.

 

Unfair that, as he watches his _best friend_ play video games on his couch, all he can think of is how soft his lips would feel, how warm he’d be wrapped up in his arms.

Prompto hands him the controller when it’s his turn, and he tries not to be nervous when he knows that Prompto’s gaze is on him, watching what he’s doing as though Noctis might actually win this level and not fail because his heart is racing so fast he can’t hear the game say _start!_ He loses, of course, and again when he retries it, and again when Prompto tells him to try again. He hands the controller back without a word and watches as Prompto beats it in one go.

“It’s only ‘cause I got hints while you played it,” Prompto assures him, even though Noctis couldn’t care less about the failing the level. Prompto must have taken his silence to mean that and not _I’m helplessly in love you_.

It would all be easier if he just told Prompto, in all honesty. He wouldn’t have to deal with keeping a secret from his best friend, wouldn’t have to worry about lying to him anymore. And if Prompto decided they couldn’t be friends anymore, that Noctis’ feelings were disgusting, then Noctis wouldn’t be subjected to hours memorizing his face anymore. He might be able to forget how many freckles Prompto has across his nose.

Prompto scrunches up his nose in concentration. 67. Noctis counted once when Prompto fell asleep half laying on Noctis on the couch, when he decided that letting Prompto sleep was more important than finding his phone or getting into a more comfortable position.

He wonders if it’s changed since then.

“Hey, Prom…”

Prompto hums his acknowledgement, eyes not straying from the screen. He leans forward and sticks his tongue out a little. Noctis swallows.

“I, uh… I have something I want to tell you.”

“Lay it on me, bud.”

“I, uh…”

“Yeah?” Prompto’s clicking the buttons like mad, the character on screen jumping and swinging a sword much too large around in a frenzy.

“I really like…” Noctis swallows again.

 _LEVEL CLEARED_ flashes across the screen, and Prompto pumps his fists into the air in victory. He turns to Noctis, smile bright as the sun.

“Now, what were you saying?”

“…It’s not important.”


End file.
